


In the eye of the Beholder

by Shaded Mazoku (Ashkaztra)



Category: Chrono Trigger
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-26
Updated: 2010-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashkaztra/pseuds/Shaded%20Mazoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can only change yourself so many times before you lose your way back to what you once were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spook_me's 2010 challenge on Livejournal, with the prompt _shapeshifter_. I don't think this was the intended interpretation. Still, it's an idea that's sort of integral to the plot of a longer CT fic I'm working on, so it was nice to get to get inside Flea's head for a while.

There is a room among his chambers that has mirrors covering all surfaces.

It is not, as common belief has it, another proof of his endless vanity.

He thinks of it as his chamber of lost memories.

There is a ritual he does every week. He dismisses all the servants, locks the doors and put up heavy wards, before entering the mirror room. Standing in the middle of the room, he slowly undresses, carelessly discarding his garments on the floor like they're nothing to him. At this point, they aren't. Once he's naked, he carefully watches himself in the mirrors.

The face that stares back still doesn't seem familiar to him.

It isn't his face. Not the face of the person he once was, before everything. But he doesn't remember what that face looked like.

Years ago, he took on the personality that would become Flea the Magician, devastatingly beautiful and more seductive than the legendary succubi. He'd changed his face to match his ambitions. Ever since, he has been only Flea, and now, he can't even remember who he was before that .

His body is pliant, his shape flexible, locking into whatever form he desires, from a minute bat to a perfect copy of their imposing leader, and to the form he's now looking at in the mirror. It isn't a natural form. Though male, his waist is narrow and his hips wide, almond-shaped eyes framed by impossibly long lashes. His lips are plump and curved in a perfect Cupid's bow. His beauty is impossible, because it isn't real. His flawless perfection is all just a trick, but it's a very good trick.

Because he has forgotten who he was before he was Flea, forgotten what he looked like and thought like. There is only so many times a person can change before they can no longer remember what they began as, and he's far past that.

He wears a face he donned as a mask, to entice and conquer anyone he met. The mask is so perfect it has even fooled the wearer.

The one who is now Flea is such a consummate actor he's become his role.

He closes his eyes, porcelain skin and cascading waves of pink hair fading from sight. Taking a deep breath, he realigns himself, smoothing out another almost invisible imperfection on his otherwise perfect form.

He is beautiful.

He is powerful.

He is terrifying.

And he is hollow, a shell formed around something that has long since died and rotted.

The leader calls and he dresses, every layer bringing him one step closer to being Flea again, and yet another step away from who he once was.

It's time to go dazzle the crowd again, and play his well choreographed game so well he forgets what he has lost.

Flea is beautiful, seductive and far smarter than he seems, but he can't help but wonder, occasionally, what he could have been had he not lost himself as willingly as he did.


End file.
